


Dinner and a Movie

by Ginia



Series: Barriers [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, It's Gladnis of course those tags go together, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 09:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia
Summary: Just a typical evening in the Amicitia-Scientia household.





	Dinner and a Movie

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fam! I heard y'all like Ignis and Gladio being all domestic and in love. I'm having a difficult time writing the two fics that I am supposed to be writing (because there is angst and woe and it's hurting my soul) sooooo I made this thing instead. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> It's technically a side-story in the same universe as Stripped Away, but the main story isn't required reading. Just accept the fact that these two adorkable boys are in love and in a healthy D/s relationship and you're all caught up.

Most evenings, Ignis arrived home several hours after Gladio. The Advisor always felt a thrill of anticipation as he approached their door, never quite knowing what to expect.

 Some evenings he would open the door to an impatient lover who would reach out before the door could fully open, grasp Ignis by his lapels, and bodily drag him into the apartment. He would be shoved against the nearest wall, rough hands yanking impatiently at his clothing, while an eager mouth pressed brandy-flavoured kisses to his lips. Such evenings would typically end with Ignis on all fours, fucked mercilessly into the bedding, or draped over Gladio’s knee, ass stinging in the wake of Gladio’s belt or bare hand. Ignis’s fair skin would be a lewd painting of bruises, bite marks, and scratches by the time the pair stumbled into bed.

Some evenings he would open the door to reveal a loving companion who would draw the exhausted brunette into a warm embrace before gentle hands were there to help him out of his suit jacket or vest. Gladio would physically sweep Ignis off of his feet, carrying him bridal-style to the living room or bedroom, then deposit him on some soft, comfortable surface. Gladio could spend hours slowly deconstructing Ignis with loving words and gentle touches. Often the Shield would unearth one of Ignis’s silk ties to restrain his wrists or veil his sight, leaving the younger man to revel in the dual sensations of vulnerability and utter safety that only Gladio could inspire in him.  Sometimes they made love, sometimes Gladio would simply caress and massage Ignis until he was boneless with relaxation.

Some evenings he would even come home to the surprising utopia of simple domestic pleasures. He would open the door to find the apartment’s air rich with the scent of butter. Gladio would be there curled up on their couch waiting for Ignis with a book or a movie. Ignis would let himself be drawn into the cushions, tucked into the Shield’s side. They would often wake in the small hours of the night to find that they had both fallen asleep. They would laugh as they stretched aching muscles, both vowing to make it to the bed next time, or suggesting that maybe they should get a second television for the bedroom.

Whatever scenario, whatever version of Gladio Ignis came home to, was always perfect. It was perfect because it was whatever Gladio needed or wanted at that moment, and Ignis was free with his lover from the burden of choice and the responsibility of analysis and decision. Their home and their relationship was such a welcome respite from the rest of the world. In the outside world Ignis was forced to exercise perfect control and exceptional judgement. There, in their home, Gladio was nothing less than his sanctuary. Gladio may be sworn to shield Noct’s body from harm, but he also served to shield Ignis’s heart, spirit, and many nights his sanity.

This evening, however, this particular evening, was one of those rare occurrences wherein Ignis was already home, waiting on Gladio’s arrival. Noctis was attending a private supper with his father and Ignis had taken his stack of reports home with him to work on. Gladio on the other hand was still finishing the day’s training drills with the newest crop of Crownsguard recruits.

The air was scented with the sweet fragrance of a summer’s breeze that wafted enticingly through the open windows and it mingled tantalizingly with the rich, slightly spicy aroma coming from the oven. Ignis had prepared a dish of roasted potatoes and peppers which was warming in the oven. It would pair nicely with the steaks that were currently marinating. He would grill those as soon as Gladio arrived home and was ready for supper.

Ignis had dutifully picked at his paperwork, but took frequent breaks to tend to some small domestic task or other. Gladio had been absolutely insistent when he had moved in that they share their household chores, even though Ignis would have been more than happy to continue tending to them all himself. He had pointed out that Gladio officially moving in would create a negligible increase in the amount of cleaning to be done around the place. Gladio had been firm, however. He didn’t want Ignis’s submission to him to translate into abject slavery. Gladio had worried about taking advantage of Ignis’s helpful nature and frankly ridiculous work ethic. Ignis had still been inclined to argue the point, but Gladio pointed out that he enjoyed looking after Ignis, that he wanted to, it gave him actual pleasure to. That was the trump card that had shut that particular conversation down.

It hadn’t stopped the both of them from trying to covertly do more than their fair share of housework, though. If Ignis excused himself to use the washroom he would take an extra few minutes to scrub out the sink and countertop. He would return to the living room to find that the bookshelves had been mysteriously dusted in his absence. They both thought themselves exceedingly clever.

Ignis was in their bedroom, neatly folding Gladio’s laundry which he had taken it upon himself to do. His gaze kept flicking to the hooks behind the door where a black collar and matching leash hung. _Soon, Gladio would be home_ soon, he reminded himself.  Checking his watch, he realized that indeed he was due quite soon, any minute.  He picked up a pile of neatly folded sweats and set them in the dresser drawer, and then made his way to the entryway.

The entryway was a long, slightly narrow space that opened into their cozy living room. Along one wall there was a long built-in bench. The seat could be lifted for additional storage space. It was where Gladio and Ignis kept their training gear and gym bags. Knowing that Gladio would arrive at any time, Ignis folded himself neatly into a kneel, hands laid comfortably in his lap. His chin tucked down as he lowered his head and waited, listening intently for the familiar sound of Gladio’s footsteps. When he finally heard that blessed sound a few minutes later, his heart skipped more than a few beats.

The door swung open to reveal Gladio, hair still wet from the Citadel showers and clinging to his cheeks, duffel bag slung over a broad shoulder. There were lines of obvious tension marring his brow, but the smile he greeted Ignis with was genuine and warm.

“Welcome home, Sir.”

“Hey pet,” the Shield bumped the door shut with his shoulder and reached behind himself to slide the lock into place. “I missed you.” Gladio lifted the lid of the bench and tossed his bag into its depths before letting it fall shut. Arching his back to stretch his tired muscles, he sat down on the bench, waiting for Ignis.

This was a familiar routine by now. Ignis eased towards Gladio, still on his knees, until he was in front of the larger man. Already he felt the day’s cares and troubles melting into the recesses of his mind as Gladio’s presence took over his reality.  Head bowed, he reached with nimble fingers to untie the laces of the other man’s boots. Suddenly a large hand was palming Ignis’s head, smoothing his bangs into his eyes and forcing his head downwards.  _Ahh_ , Ignis thought. _It’s going to be one of those nights_.

Ignis understood the wordless gesture and immediately withdrew his fingers. Instead he pressed his palms to the floor and bent his lithe form at the waist, flexible with years now of training, until he could reach to press his lips in a reverent kiss against the toe of first one of Gladio’s boots and then the other.

A sigh escaped Gladio’s lips as the Shield lifted one heavily booted foot, and pressed it firmly into Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis groaned as the thick rubber sole dug into him. He could feel it, even through the soft cotton of the Henley shirt he was still wearing. He was fairly certain that he would have a heel-shaped mark in his shoulder, and he was glad. He loved stealing private moments, alone in his office at the Citadel, to touch and admire Gladio’s marks. They were like little love notes to the Advisor, reminding him of his bond to the Shield. Gladio was always careful never to hurt Ignis so much that the pain outweighed the pleasure.

As Gladio had made himself comfortable, Ignis settled himself down on his elbows to properly lavish attention on the other’s boots. The scent of the leather quickly went to Ignis’s head, muddling his thoughts with desire. Without thinking about what he was doing he flicked his tongue out, tasting the supple leather, licking slow, steady stripes from the toe and up along the curve of the ankle, then back down again to where the leather melded into the rubber edge of the sole.

Ignis gently brought a hand to the heel of the boot that was still pressed to the floor, carefully easing it into his palm, lifting and supporting the foot until he could reach the underside. He earned himself a moan from the Shield as he dragged his tongue lightly across the thick tread of the sole, erasing the minute amount of dust and dirt that may have accumulated there. Gladio typically took exceedingly good care of all of his gear, so his boots were actually very clean. This was an entirely symbolic gesture on Ignis’s part.

After a few minutes Gladio shifted his weight and switched feet, bringing the foot that was on Ignis’s shoulder to the floor, and propping the newly cleaned boot onto his other shoulder. Again, he dug his heel in, engraving a matching crescent-shaped mark into Ignis’s other shoulder.  They spent another few quiet minutes in this way, the one using the other as a makeshift footrest while the other licked and kissed his boot.  It gave both of them time to decompress after their respective workdays, and helped both men shift into the headspace they would need in order to relax.

When Gladio was satisfied he slid a booted toe under Ignis’s chin and gently nudged him up, until he was kneeling upright again. The Advisor was then permitted to unlace Gladio’s boots and slide them off, setting them neatly by the door. Gladio favoured him by ruffling his hair, then the two men made their way into the kitchen together.

Ignis made quick work of washing his hands before retrieving the steaks and setting them on the skillet, while Gladio moved around him, gathering dinnerware. The kitchen wasn’t exactly small, but it wasn’t exactly spacious either, and Gladio’s bulk meant that he took up an inordinate amount of room. It was a careful but well-practiced dance that they performed that allowed them to both bustle about the space without getting in each other’s way.

While Ignis finished cooking the meat and prepared to plate their food, Gladio laid out their place settings and drinks. Ignis stole a glance out of the corner of his eye and noted that Gladio crouched down to lay a place setting for Ignis on the floor, beside his own usual chair. A knowing smile tugged at the Advisor’s lips. _Yes indeed, it’s still going to be one of those nights_. Where Gladio chose to set Ignis’s dinnerware was as telling to the Advisor as the way the Shield greeted him when he came home. Some evenings he would set two places at the table when he was feeling domestic and comfortable. Some evenings he would pull a serving platter form the cupboard instead of two plates which meant that the Shield intended to hand feed his beloved pet from his own plate. A plate on the floor, however, meant that Ignis was likely to be fucked and lovingly beaten as the Shield worked through whatever was stressing him out, whatever was fuelling his need to control and overwhelm someone.

They settled into their meal a few minutes later. Ignis plating their food, while Gladio poured them glasses of the same red wine that Ignis had used in his marinade. To the outside world they may have looked like an odd pairing, one man seated casually at the dining table, the other on his knees, dinnerware neatly arranged on the wooden floor. To them, though, this was perfectly normal and comfortable. They ate through an easy silence, Ignis occasionally stealing glances up at Gladio. He noted the tension that still shrouded the other man, weighing his shoulders down, tightening his features. He longed to abandon his meal, rush to the other’s side and soothe away his troubles.

Gladio finished his meal first. Chair legs scraped as he pushed his seat back and carried his plate to the sink to rinse. Ignis finished a few minutes later. Gladio swooped in like a bird of prey to collect the dishes from Ignis.

“I’ll take care of these. Go get undressed.” He cocked his head in the general direction of their bedroom. “Get your leash and collar while you’re there.”

“Yes Sir.” Ignis couldn’t straighten fast enough, and had to restrain himself from sprinting down the hall to their room.

When Ignis exited their bedroom, he was naked and on all fours, the soft leather of the leash and collar held gently between his teeth. The floor was uncomfortable and unyielding under his knees but each ache and sting to his joints was worth it as each movement brought him closer to Gladio. Drawn like a moth to a flame Ignis crawled to where Gladio was waiting for him, seated in the living room in one of their comfortable squashy armchairs.

Gladio had removed his tank and track jacket, and was clad now only in his uniform pants. Ignis barely supressed a moan of desire at the sight. It didn’t matter that he had years of exposure to Gladio’s good looks and sculpted physique. Ignis was as weak to the man’s charms then as he had been so many years ago when he’d first glimpsed the Shield changing in the Citadel locker room.

 Trembling with eagerness and anticipation, the Advisor brought himself to his knees before Gladio. Ordinarily he would have held himself perfectly erect and on display, but Ignis was still aware of his lover’s tension and dark mood, so he took a calculated risk and dipped down so that his cheek lay atop the larger man’s knee. He cast a soft look upwards, teal gaze full of love and trust. Gladio brought a hand down in response, strong fingers threading lightly through Ignis’s sandy locks before he reached down to retrieve the goods that Ignis still held gently in his mouth. The Advisor pressed a reverent kiss to the bodyguard’s knee before he knelt up properly so that the collar could be placed about his throat.

As often as he heard the snap of the collar’s buckle the sound always sent a thrill of excitement racing down Ignis’s spine. Goosebumps were raised across the taut lines of Ignis’s flesh, his senses heightened, nerves on edge, waiting for whatever Gladio might see fit to do with or do to him.

“Very fucking nice, pet,” Gladio’s voice was a rich, husky growl. “I’ve waited all gods damned day to get you like this.”

Ignis flushed with pleasure at the praise. “Thank you, Sir.”

The Shield leaned back into the chair, amber eyes heavy-lidded and sultry as he gazed upon Ignis’s bare form. “Turn around,” he finally said, twirling his index finger to punctuate his words. “And prepare yourself for me. I want to watch you.”

Ignis felt his breath hitch and stall at the command. As he shifted on his knees to face away from Gladio, the last thing he saw was his lover reclining, one hand clutching the currently unclipped leash, the other palming his erection through his trousers.

Achingly aware of Gladio’s eyes on him, Ignis quickly sucked on his own index finger, wetting the digit. He couldn’t help making lewd slurping noises, nor could he help the obscene little popping noise his lips made when he pulled his own finger from his mouth.  Gladio for his part ground out a low growl in response to each of Ignis’s filthy little noises.

Ignis reached back, slick fingertip seeking his own entrance. He made a show of tracing the cleft line of his ass before finally settling his fingers against his entrance. Moaning softly, he rubbed just his fingertip against the tight ring of muscle and began the slow process of working himself into readiness.

Gladio matched Ignis groan for groan, moan for moan. When Ignis worked his entire finger into his ass he cried out in mingled pain and pleasure, and a matching cry was ripped from Gladio’s throat in response to seeing prim, proper Ignis knuckle-deep in his own ass, and the knowledge that he did it for _him_. 

Ignis began languidly pumping his finger in and out of himself, lean hips rolling smoothly with each thrust. He began curling his finger, stretching his walls, attempting to overcome his own resistance. Ignis was about to add a second digit when a sudden snap of leather rent the air. Confused, Ignis momentarily stilled his rhythmic movements until a sudden burst of pain across his lower back spurred him back into motion.

“Hurry up, pet. I’m fucking waiting.” This time Ignis heard the telltale whistling as the leather tore through the air before colliding with his back. Ignis whimpered apologetically and hastened to dip a second finger into his entrance and resumed thrusting. Ignis didn’t have to turn around in order to know what he would see:  Gladio, one hand likely still palming himself, the other hand clutching Ignis’s leash, folded double to form a makeshift switch.

Breathing raggedly, Ignis fought to prepare himself as quickly as he could, keenly aware of Gladio’s gaze scrutinizing him, watching the way he rocked his hips and angled his wrist, watching Ignis’s fingers disappear inside of him. Every so often he would hear the crack of leather over the sound of his own harsh breaths, followed immediately by a flare of pain, pain that quickly faded to a dull stinging sensation which only spurred Ignis on. Being lashed with his own leash was just the right shade of painful for Ignis, it was a firm reminder of his place, a timely encouragement from Gladio to _hurry the fuck up,_ and there was something oddly pleasurable about the way his nerve endings positively sang in the wake of each lash.

“Yes, my pet. Good. So fucking good,” Gladio encouraged, voice tight as he struggled to not tackle the smaller man into the rug then and there and have his way with him. “You’re so good, fucking yourself on your own fingers for me, wanting to be so good for me.”

When Ignis could slide three fingers easily into himself Gladio either determined that he was ready, or he had run out of patience. Either way Gladio emitted a choked moan before ordering Ignis to stop and turn back around.

The sight of Gladio nearly stopped Ignis’s heart, the man looked so damn perfect. His cheeks were flushed and eyes heavy-lidded and dark with arousal. He had Ignis’s leash folded over itself to form a short strap just as Ignis had suspected. Silently the Shield held the leash out and obediently Ignis bent his head to press his lips to it, tasting the rich musk of the leather and the salt of his own sweat.

Satisfied with Ignis’s show of submission, Gladio pulled the leash back and moved to clip it to Ignis’s collar.

“Gimmie your wrists,” he ordered. When Ignis hastened to obey by offering his crossed wrists up to Gladio, the Shield quickly wound the leash around them, drawing the leather tight before tying as sturdy of a knot as he could, given the material that he was working with.  There was perhaps a foot of slack between Ignis’s bound wrists and where the end of the leash met his collar.

“You’re so fucking exquisite. I love you, pet.” Gladio groaned as he bent forward, full lips claiming Ignis’s in a bruising kiss. Ignis could feel the other man’s love and desire pouring into him through the connection. Gladio eventually pulled back, breathless with lips delightfully kiss-swollen. “I’m going to fucking enjoy this.”

Without further preamble, Gladio grasped Ignis by the upper arms and guided him down into the softness of the rug. The Shield was unapologetic as he manhandled Ignis into position with his bound wrists pinned between his chest and the floor. At this angle, the way his ass was thrust into the air was downright obscene.  Ignis didn’t have time to think about how brazenly he was displayed, nor did he have time to worry about whether or not his knees would be rubbed raw by the rug, or what it was doing to his hair to have his forehead pressed into the floor like this.  Before any thoughts could permeate the haze of arousal clouding his brain, Gladio had mounted him in one slow, steady movement.

His own fingers had been barely sufficient to prepare himself for Gladio’s girth. Ignis’s cries were muffled by the rug as he felt each inch of Gladio’s cock slide into him, tugging his walls farther apart, forcing his body to yield beneath him. The Shield remained seated in him, waiting until Ignis’s breathing evened out, waiting until he felt the tight ring of Ignis’s muscles relax. The Shield placed heavy hands against Ignis’s hips, calloused fingers rubbing soothing circles into the trembling flesh.

When Ignis had relaxed and there was no danger of hurting him, Gladio’s grip tightened on Ignis enough to leave bruises, and he began to rock his hips back and forth, pumping his aching erection in and out of his lover’s ass. The larger man set a brutal pace, all of the tension and stress of the day was being channelled into the energy that Gladio used to relentlessly fuck Ignis into the rug.

Their apartment was noisy with the symphony of their lust: the sounds of Gladio’s hips slapping into Ignis’s ass, the breathless way they both gasped for air, the sharp cries of unbridled pleasure when Gladio’s cock pressed into Ignis’s prostate, causing Ignis’s walls to clench more tightly around Gladio.

Gladio was not a patient lover that evening. His bulk pressed into Ignis relentlessly, rocking the smaller man back and forth with each thrust. Ignis’s knees began to ache from the exertion of supporting much of their combined weight. He cried out in pure ecstasy, though, each time Gladio thrust into him. All of Ignis’s nerve endings were on fire, crackling like electricity under his skin, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through his body. His own cock was swollen and aching with need and he felt fit to burst.

Gladio brought a hand to the back of Ignis’s head, thick fingers tangling in the sweat-dampened brown locks. The Shield pulled Ignis’s head back, forcing his face away from the rug so that his cries wouldn’t be muted. Gladio liked his pet to be noisy.

“Whose are you?” Gladio growled, punctuating each word with a savage snap of his hips that sent his cock slamming into Ignis’s core.

“Yours!” Ignis gasped out between his wanton cries of pleasure. “I belong to you, Sir!”

Ignis’s words sent Gladio over the edge. The Shield’s body became taut and trembling as he suddenly released into Ignis, filling the smaller man with a stream of hot seed.

“Come for me, mine. Fucking come,” Gladio ground out through clenched teeth as he rolled his hips, riding out wave upon wave of bliss.

A choked cry was the only response that Ignis could manage but by the gods he did obey. The orgasm that he had been struggling to keep at bay was unleashed, sending ribbons of come across his own belly and into the rug (damn, he would have to remember to scrub that later).

Gladio collapsed atop Ignis’s arched back as the Advisor remained prone and bound beneath him. It took several long minutes before either of them could muster the strength to move, or in Ignis’s case to ask the behemoth crushing him to move.  Eventually Gladio recovered, his ragged breathing evening out.  He shifted slightly to relieve some of the burden from Ignis.

“You’re so good, pet,” Gladio soothed gently. Ignis murmured happily as he felt calloused fingertips exploring his body, felt Gladio tracing the grooves his boot heels had dug into his shoulders, the red lines and pink skin criss-crossing his back, down to the bruises on Ignis’s hips that were a perfect match for Gladio’s fingers. Ignis’s body was a tapestry of obscene marks that told the story of their lust for each other. Each mark was a prize that both men cherished, that both men would find themselves absently touching in a quiet moment, and they would become lost in the sweet memory of this night, until another night of lovemaking would override it.

Gentle hands were there to guide Ignis up to a sitting position, and the leash and collar were removed. Gladio brought one wrist and then the other to his lips, kissing the little marks from where the leather had chafed the skin, he hadn’t meant for that to happen. Ignis didn’t mind, hadn’t even noticed it through the tumult of other delightful sensations surrounding him.

They helped each other to their feet, both men weak-kneed after their exertions. Together they made their way to the bathroom. Ignis fetched a damp towel to clean themselves off with while Gladio fetched them each a pair of pyjama bottoms to wear. It was a slow process to clean and dress. They were both giddy and trembling in the afterglow, and they kept stopping what they were doing to steal one kiss, then another, then a dozen more from the other. Laughing at themselves they did eventually make it back to the living room where Ignis being Ignis, he hastened to scrub at the flecks of come that dappled the rug.

While Ignis worked at the rug, Gladio excused himself to the kitchen. Before long the apartment was full of the sounds of popping kernels and the rich, heady aroma of melted butter.

The pair settled into the couch for the rest of the evening. Gladio reclined with his back against the armrest, and Ignis settled between his legs with his back pressed to Gladio’s strong chest. A light blanket was draped over their legs – not because it was cold, merely because it was just so comfortable and cozy to have it there. Ignis held their bowl of popcorn on his lap while Gladio had one arm wrapped protectively across Ignis’s bare chest, and the other arm reached to the bowl. Gladio was sure to press pieces of popcorns to Ignis’s lips from time to time. Now that he had worked out the day’s tension, he was content to snuggle his pet to his chest, hand-feeding him the fluffiest and most buttery bits of the popcorn.

It was Gladio’s turn to pick the movie. He opted for some atrocious action flick, the sort where the hero by all rights should have died a dozen times over but through the magic of cinema he survived car crashes, falling out a fifth storey window, and several explosions. They laughed together at the absurdity of the action, taking pleasure in critiquing the unrealistic fighting moves, Gladio loudly proclaiming how he could have handled that shit “So much fucking better, man! Look at that stance!”

By the end of the night there was a bowl on the floor with a few unpopped kernels still in it, and someone had kicked the blanket off of them. Gladio had both arms wrapped around Ignis’s chest and his face was buried in the strategist hair, where he’d been pressing affectionate kisses to the top of his head.  Ignis had managed to shift slightly towards his side and had his arms draped loosely around Gladio’s waist, still snuggled securely against the Shield’s broad chest.  They would awaken hours later, stiff and sore, but uncomplaining.

 


End file.
